


all the things in the world you could be (including fine)

by lesbiankavinsky



Series: What's Up, Doc? [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Character, but trying to keep it positive it IS sweet i promise, discussion of transmisogyny, discussion of transphobia, tender trans thrifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiankavinsky/pseuds/lesbiankavinsky
Summary: “So, what sort of stuff are we looking for?”Doc opens their mouth, and then realizes they don’t really know. “I guess. Stuff that’ll make me feel. I don’t know. Pretty.” The word makes a valiant attempt to stick in their throat, but they won’t let it. It’s a word they like, a word that feels good in their mouth, and they’re sick of feeling bad for wanting to use it for themself. “But I don’t really know what that’s going to be. It’s hard to imagine, I guess.”“I don’t think that’s hard to imagine at all,” Rose says, voice soft.





	all the things in the world you could be (including fine)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm imagining this taking place ~six months before the first work in the series. 
> 
> Warning for discussion of trasphobia & transmisogyny as tagged - Doc talks explicitly about their fears re: dressing more feminine & cultural perception of transfeminine people, and anxiety around that hovers around the whole story. Everything that actually happens is however affirming so hopefully it won't be too upsetting but obviously stay safe!
> 
> Title from the Mall Blum song "Fine!"

Doc stopped being able to pay attention to their research about five minutes ago. For the past minute or so, they’ve been watching Rose as she reads. She gets so focused. They love that about her, and so they hate to interrupt, but her focus is unlikely to break on its own and they want to talk to her. Finally, they bite the bullet and say, “I think I hate how I dress.”

Rose looks up and blinks, taking a moment to register Doc’s words. “It’s alright.”

They’re wearing their usual: dark trousers, a button-down, a cardigan. “I mean, I don’t think it looks bad,” they say, trying to clarify. “It’s just -- I don’t know. I mean it’s not terribly  _ masculine,  _ I suppose but. Well, it doesn’t really feel like me.”   


Closing her book -- a clear sign that they have her full attention -- Rose says, “Do you wanna try on some of my stuff?”

Doc chews their lip, simultaneously grateful that Rose understands that what they’re trying to say is that they want to fem up their wardrobe and unsure that Rose’s style is what they want to go for. There’s also a more practical consideration. “We’re pretty different shapes,” they say.

“True enough. We could go to some thrift stores. If it’s -- I mean, I imagine it might be sort of stressful, shopping for women’s clothes. If that’s what you’re looking for? And if I’m there, maybe it’ll be easier.”

Rose is quick on the uptake with these sorts of things, is quick on the uptake with most emotionally fraught things. It’s not the kind of thing Doc feels able to express in, say, a thank you note, but they hope she knows they appreciate it. They nod. “Yeah, it would be.” 

“Shops should still be open,” Rose says, checking her phone. “Wanna go now?” She must notice Doc’s hesitation, because she immediately says, “We don’t have to, if you don’t want. We can wait, do it another time. Whenever you like.”

“No,” Doc says, starting to gather the books and papers they’d spread over the table. “I want to go now, I’ve been sitting on this too long, and now I’m thinking about it, and -- yeah, now’s good.”

They take the vespa to a second hand store that Jackie apparently swears by. For a moment, they stand at the door, Doc being for a moment overwhelmed by the size of it and by the frustratingly scary task of making their way over to the women’s section. Eventually, Rose steers them that way, a steady hand at their elbow. They thank their lucky stars they aren’t doing this alone.

“So, what sort of stuff are we looking for?”

Doc opens their mouth, and then realizes they don’t really know. “I guess. Stuff that’ll make me feel. I don’t know. Pretty.” The word makes a valiant attempt to stick in their throat, but they won’t let it. It’s a word they like, a word that feels good in their mouth, and they’re sick of feeling bad for wanting to use it for themself. “But I don’t really know what that’s going to be. It’s hard to imagine, I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s hard to imagine at all,” Rose says, voice soft. Then she straightens. “Okay, here’s a plan. We’re just going to grab anything we like the look of and take a whole boatload to the dressing room and see what works. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Doc confirms.

They spend a good fifteen minutes flipping through the racks, draping shirts and skirts and dresses over arms and shoulders. Doc pulls out their phone to take a picture of Rose laughing and holding up a  [ tie-dye shirt with the Morton Salt girl on it that says, “Don’t Be A Salty Bitch.” ](https://shiftythrifting.tumblr.com/post/187407013829/quality-thrift-store-in-long-beach-ca) The thing is, it’s not scary at all. It’s just something fun they’re doing with Rose, and the fluttering of their heart is decidedly excited rather than anxious. 

It’s only when they get to the dressing room that they get scared. “It’s not going to work, is it,” they say, staring at the door. “Nothing’s going to fit and I’m just going to look ridiculous.”

“You’re going to look brilliant,” Rose says, quiet. “If nothing here works, we’ll just go to the next place, and if nothing there works we’ll pick up a busted-up sewing machine and learn how to make pretty sundresses for lanky ladies.” 

Doc nods. “Okay.”

Rose stays just outside the dressing room. Under the door, Doc can see her feet shuffling, probably listening to music on her phone. Doc wishes the door wasn’t there, so they could pluck one earbud from her ear and listen with her. 

A frustrating number of things just don’t fit. Shirts stretch awkwardly across their shoulders, despite their being fairly narrowly built, and skirts fall at weird lengths. They’re definitely going to need to get breast forms for most of the dresses to work. Hair will help, too, they think. They’re growing it out and it’s an awkward length just now, not long enough to do anything with it but impossibly shaggy left to its own devices. They’ve taken to holding it back -- hiding it, if they’re honest -- with a bandana. 

Rose’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “Well? What do you think?”

They consider themself in the mirror, wearing the first dress that sort of works --  [ a long-sleeve dress with a print of unicorns and rabbits and foliage ](https://www.modcloth.com/shop/dresses/magical-moments-fit-and-flare-dress-in-black-multi/166206.html) , just silly enough to be to their taste. The neckline is high, which helps, they think. It’s a little on the short side, but they can work with that. Lace tights might do the trick. Somehow, God help them, they’re going to learn to love their knobby knees. “I think I want to shave my legs,” they say.

“Okay,” Rose says. “I can teach you.”

Doc squashes down the idea of Rose with her hand on their leg as hard as they can and go back to flipping through hangers.

Rose’s voice comes again through the door. “Can I see?”

Curling a hand around a hanger, Doc thinks how unfair it is that every part of this is hard. 

When Rose speaks again, her voice is closer, like she’s standing right against the door. “It’ll be alright, promise.”

Doc steps up to the door, leans against it. She’s right there on the other side, so close. Unfair, that it feels like she’s a million miles away. How to put it into words? “It’s just that. God. Men in dresses are the butt of a joke everywhere, all the time. And I mean, fuck that, on every level, for men who like to wear dresses and people who get mistaken for men who like to wear dresses, but -- it’s hard to unlearn, right? Even for me. So. God. Sorry, this is hard to say. You’re my best friend and I trust you but you’ve been living in the same world I have, and it’s hard to think you won’t be laughing at me, even just in the back of your head, even not meaning to. Because that’s what people do when they see people like me.”

There’s a long pause, and Doc’s hand, where it rests against the door, curls up into an anxious fist. Finally, Rose speaks. “You’re right. It’s shitty and unfair but you’re right, people are shit about this stuff. I’ve been shit about this stuff, in my life. But I’m lucky, because I met you, and every time I look at you and see someone I love, I shake off a little more of the bullshit. I’m not saying it isn’t a leap of faith, because it is, but I promise you that whenever I see you, whatever you’re wearing, the most important thing is that I’m seeing my favorite person.”

Doc closes their eyes a moment. It would be easier if they weren’t in love with her, if it mattered a little less to them what she thought. It would be easier if she were trans, or if they weren’t the first trans person she was close to. But none of that can be changed. They need, for their own sake, for their own peace of mind, to be able to trust her with this. So they say, “Okay.”

They open the door a crack and Rose shuffles back from where she was standing against it. Peering around the edge, they say, “Do you mind coming in here? So I don’t have to come out?”

Rose giggles, but nods.

“Haha, yeah, I know. Come on.”

Rose slips into the dressing room and Doc steps back, holding their hands behind their back. A smile spreads across Rose’s face, not amused but happy, sweet,  _ adoring.  _ “That’s perfect,” she says. “That’s. I love that, you look perfect.” 

Doc tries to bite down their own smile. They’re feeling such a flurry of things just now: relief, love, euphoria, peace. None of it sayable. They say, “It’s a bit short.”

“Yeah, a bit, but we’ll get you a pair of lace tights and you’ll be good as gold.”

Now Doc lets themself grin. “My thought exactly.” 

“I’m buying that for you, I don’t care how much it costs.”

“We’re in a thrift shop, it costs five quid.” 

“My treat, I’m serious. You can buy the rest of it yourself but I want to be able to say I bought you that dress.”

“But I have to buy the lace tights?”

“Yeah, the lace tights are on you.” She pauses a moment and then says, “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Doc gathers Rose into a hug, and she presses her face to their shoulder. Doc closes their eyes, letting themself just sit in this moment. Let it be, don’t feel too much, just be grateful for her, warm and present and minding enough about them to be with them through this. When she pulls away, they take her by the shoulders and turn her around, ushering her back out of the dressing room. “I’ve got half a dozen more things to try on and I’m getting hungry, I want to get through this before I go into a hypoglycemic rage.”

The door closed between them again, Rose says, “Take-out at my place after?”

They come out of the dressing room a few minutes later with the dress and also a floral skirt and a crochet crop top that they both agree is the best thing either of them has ever seen. Doc starts to panic at the cash register so in the end Rose buys everything and Doc pays her back for everything but the dress once they get outside. The plastic bag sits next to the coffee table that evening as they sit on the ground behind it, eating curry while a baking show plays on the television. 

Doc pushes a piece of lamb around in the plastic container with their fork. “I think it’s going to be a while,” they say, “until I can wear any of it out in public.” 

“You’ll get there,” Rose says. “You can wear it around here to start out with, if you like. Just me and you.”

Doc nods. “Yeah, I think that’d be good.” 

Rose shuffles over a bit, rests her head on their shoulder. They’ve always been like this, as long as they’ve been friends, ignoring personal space in favor of affection and comfort by touch. “I’m proud of you,” she says. 

Probably they’re supposed to say something now, but Doc isn’t sure what it is, so they just turn to kiss the top of Rose’s head, and that’s enough, they don’t have to say it all out loud. She knows. 

  
  
  



End file.
